


I’ll let you help me.

by OrangeyCat



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft Youtubers, Sleepyboisinc, Twitch - Fandom, dreamteam - Fandom, mcyt, minecraftyoutubers, sleepybois - Fandom
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Forehead Kisses, Forehead Touching, Hair Washing, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Siblings, Touch-Starved, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28258641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeyCat/pseuds/OrangeyCat
Summary: “I can’t do it.” Tommy stood in the doorway, red knuckles gripping the frame, eyes cast distantly downward.Phil spun around from his desk. “Do what?”“My hairs’ all--” Tommy gestured to his greasy mop of hair. His toes tapped absently on the carpet. Phil noticed the sweat on the boy’s forehead and the way his legs swayed slightly. He’d been running a fever since this morning, but insisted on staying on his feet, running around doing chores and picking up after Wilbur.Tommy had been sick a couple times since his adoption into the family, and all three of those times he’d denied it and hidden it until he was practically a dead-man walking. But he’s too tired now. He just needs help.———Or: Tommy finally lets his adopted-father help him by washing his hair while he’s sick.  Very soft, family fluff. You get it.
Relationships: Brothers - Relationship, Sleepyboisinc - Relationship, father/son - Relationship
Comments: 32
Kudos: 462





	I’ll let you help me.

“I can’t do it.” Tommy stood in the doorway, red knuckles gripping the frame, eyes cast distantly downward. 

Phil spun around from his desk. “Do what?”

“My hairs’ all--” Tommy gestured to his greasy mop of hair. His toes tapped absently on the carpet. Phil noticed the sweat on the boy’s forehead and the way his legs swayed slightly. He’d been running a fever since this morning, but insisted on staying on his feet, running around doing chores and picking up after Wilbur. 

Tommy had been sick a couple times since his adoption into the family, and all three of those times he’d denied it and hidden it until he was practically a dead-man walking. 

“Ahh, ok. I’m coming, go find towels for me.” Phil turned back around to pack up the cash he’d been counting. Tommy was asking for some semblance of help. Finally. 

Tommy hesitated for a second, then turned and shuffled out. 

The boy bunched heaps of soft, maroon bath towels into his arms, spinning around to catch them as they repeatedly fell from the tower. He groaned. His head hurt, and there was somehow sweat dripping down from it into his eyes. Somehow the shame of being sick hurt more than the physical symptoms of it. “This is miserable.”

“It’s not the plague,” Techno called from the living room. 

“I know. I’m just-- tired.” Tommy slammed the dryer closed with his heel and wobbled through the kitchen to the base of the stairs, shimmying up one step at a time. With each step he swore he could feel the energy draining out of his bones. I swear I’m going to fall. His legs felt like sandbags and his eyes must’ve been held down by them. 

When he reached the top he heard water running in the bathroom, but he passed right by, dumped the towels, and dragged his feet into the bedroom. 

The ladder. It spawned before him like an infinite mountain. His bunk was up-top, something he’d demanded when he moved in, and something Techno had obliged without too much of a fight. Normally Tommy relished it, but now, all he wanted was to pitch over. Could he even pull himself off the ground? 

He fell forward, narrowly missing the floor, face first into his older brother’s bed. My gosh. The fluffy, messy, blue comforter fit around his body, except his feet, which hung off the end. Why did he get tired so suddenly? 

The window-light faded away as darkness clouded around Tommy like a warm ringing in his ears. It was like a weight was pressing him into the bed, further, further down. He could barely breathe out of his nose, and his head was burning, back cold, mind foggy. Everything was stuffy, but he was so, so tired. 

A hand rested gently on his back. Tommy lifted his chin and twisted around. Phil was looking at him softly. 

“What.” 

“I left you for three minutes.” Phil was rubbing his back. Tommy sunk his face back into the cold sheets. 

“You’re gonna give your germs to Techno. Cmon’.” 

“Techno won’t get sick. He doesn’t ever get sick.” I always get sick.

Tommy let himself be lifted off the bed, to his feet, which he forgot thow to stand on, and be guided to the bathroom. Steam was rising from the tub. He wanted to sleep now. Maybe when he woke up he wouldn’t be sick and tired. 

Techno’s pink hair stopped in front of the open door. “Was Tommy in my bed?” 

“Yeah-- I’ll change it when I’m done in here,” Phil said. 

Techno put a hand up as he walked away. “Don’t worry about it.”

Phil guided the boy to sit, which he hated, but appreciated, because his brain-to-body-connection was shit right now. 

“Lean your head over the tub, Tommy,” Phil said gently. Tommy breathed out and nervously scooted to the bathtub to tip his neck back over the edge. He didn’t like how vulnerable his body felt like this. He looked up at Phil, instinctively searching for that reassurance, searching his adopted-father’s eyes for some hint of malice. Phil turned the water warmer and met his gaze. 

There was a time when Tommy couldn’t have Phil looking at him. Couldn’t be touched, couldn’t be seen. He’d jolt up at the man walking in the door, hurry to look busy, scramble out of the way. There was a time when asking for help was as far away and impossible as anything, when he lived here, and he survived day by day, and he wasted away. 

Tommy blinked as Phil put a hand on his hair and scratched his fingers through it. Warm water followed and flowed down his scalp and over the hand, still rubbing rhythmically. Tommy melted in more ways than one.

Phil was different than everyone else. Phil loved him. 

He let his eyes fall closed and hands go limp at his sides. He felt as Phil shampooed and massaged his roots. He felt the little rubs near his ears, at his hairline, at the base of his neck. 

If only little Tommy knew he could feel, be, this safe. That someone would wash his hair and rub his head. 

What seemed like forever later, the shower knob squeaked off and Tommy slit his eye-lids barely open. It was bright, and his spine hurt, but his head felt lovely. He caught himself wishing that his hair had been dirtier and that this would have taken longer. 

Phil sat Tommy up and let the boy lean into him as he gently worked a towel through his hair. He was woozy, and still high off that safe-feeling he was trying to get used to when his adopted-father helped him to his feet and walked him to his bedroom.

Techno sat by the window with a little book in his big hands. “He can have it. I’ll just take the top tonight. There’s no way you can throw him up there,” the teenager said without looking up. 

Phil sighed. “Thanks Techno.” The sound was close to Tommy’s ear, and he couldn’t control himself from leaning further against his adopted-father’s body. His legs were becoming less like sand-bags and more like milk. Phil slung an arm under Tommy’s when the boy started slipping. 

When he was finally guided into bed, everything was warm, but this time, he was clean. He buried his face into the comforter. It smelled like Techno. His brother turned a scrapy page from the corner. 

“Alright,” Phil said. “See you at Dinner, Toms.” His Thumb rubbed beside Tommy’s eye. 

Tommy looked up again, searching one last time for that safety, that certainty that this man was good. That this was Good. Phil bent over and kissed his forehead. 

“Thanks, Phil.” More than you will ever know. 

Phil’s hand brushed past his face as he stood back up and left for the door. It creaked and clicked shut behind him. Tommy sunk further into the mattress and fell asleep to the sound of Techno’s far off breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting on here- pls critique me as u see fit :) And DEFINITELY comment and tell me if you’d want more of this type of stuff! (Maybe even suggest things?)


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